


The Root of the Root

by amusewithaview



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Character Study, POV Female Character, POV Second Person, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-08
Updated: 2012-07-08
Packaged: 2017-11-09 09:57:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/454204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/amusewithaview/pseuds/amusewithaview
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Here is the deepest secret that nobody knows: that some stories ought not be told, some people want to be forgotten, some guilt you can't get over, sometimes all you are is a footnote in someone else's epic adventure.</p><p>Derek carries a burden of guilt, and that burden is named <i>Laura</i>.</p><p>Laura carried a burden, too.  Here's the story she wouldn't tell, even if he'd asked her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Root of the Root

**Author's Note:**

> Because, having seen the first season, I refuse to believe that she could have been caught by surprise.
> 
> Also, it's entirely possible I stole bits of lore from "Blood and Chocolate" - if you recognize it, it's not mine.
> 
> Title from E.E. Cummings "I Carry Your Heart."

You're born a wolf.

They say that that means you'll be a leader, _the_ leader. You're born to be an Alpha and everyone knows it. But, first and foremost, you are born wolf. What gets missed, amidst all the portents and the mystique of your presumed station, is how _hard_ that makes everything.

You are five when you first shift into your two-legs, your _human_ form. It is scary and confusing and mother's scent (the one you will call 'mother,' later, the one who smells like _warmth, sweet-musk, dead-flower_ ) is salty with tears. Father smells like _good-hunt, proud-kill_ and the rest of the family is a jumble of confusion and loudness and you are not prepared. All of your senses feel muted, somehow, and everything else feels _wrong_.

You hide under your brother's bed for an hour before they go away and leave you be. When you come out, it's in your birth-form, and mother smells like salt again. You practice being two-legs after that, because it makes her – makes _everyone_ \- happy, but it's almost a year before you're willing to wear clothes. Two before you're consistently remembering to speak instead of trying to make sounds not suited to this delicate throat, gestures rendered ridiculous by this weak, furless, _defenseless_ form.

They're understanding, everyone is. Your parents are patient with you, aunts and uncles shifting to comfort you, getting you used to them being wolves when you are not, reassuring you that all you've learned in your fur is still right, still true. What you are as a two-legs doesn't negate the reality of fur, fang, hunt, and howl.

The cousins are too young to understand, your brother too little for any but the most gentle play. Still, he is often the easiest for you to be around. Fur or flesh, he doesn't care, he always delights in your presence. You notice that your parents, even at their most _sharp-smell-worry, salt-tears-fur-bristled_ are always soothed by your interactions with him.

It takes until you are ten for you to understand how worried everyone had been. You were born wolf, and that's a blessing, but nobody knew when (or _if_ , they had started to whisper, _if_ ) you would shift. They had wondered if perhaps, like some of the human children, you were stuck – trapped in your birth-form, only no quick nip from a concerned aunt or uncle would release you from your skin.

Of course, you know none of that at first. All you know is that things have changed, and you are not prepared. The cues you used to take, the ones comprised of _body, motion, scent-marker_ have been replaced with words and sounds and you understand some of them, but you always look to body and scent first, they tell the truth even when words lie.

You learn what a lie is. You learn about anger, sadness, helplessness. You learn about many things, not all of them good. But you learn about hugs, chocolate, snuggling close to pack, skin-against-skin, somehow so much more intimate than fur-brushing-fur. You learn to, if not love your two-leg form, at least appreciate it.

Fingers are very useful. Much moreso than a tail.

Just as you are settling into two-leg form and two-leg ways, your little brother shifts, and you get to see the process in reverse: his confusion, four legs tangling under him as he tries to navigate them, small snout sniffing the air, soft cub-growls at his own inability. Your parents' pride, the aunts and uncles relief, cousins' childish pleasure at another cub to scrap with. He is a well-formed cub, fur black – good for blending in at night, strong, and determined. So determined. You take your wolf form whenever he does and you become (even more) inseparable. He following your wolf, you following his human, each teaching the other.

He was in school, up until his first shift. You've never gone, but you're curious. Wondering about the smells he brings home in his hair, on his skin, the strange implements he keeps in the bag on his back. He shows you how to do things, but more importantly, he shows you how to be _human_. Mother, father, the adults, they never tried, too used to you and your ways: how you are wolf, even in your human skin.

Derek teaches you how to _be_ human. Starts you on small forays to the gas station at the edge of town, at first just to stand outside, soak in the air and try, desperately, not to be overwhelmed by the inundation of information. Later, you step inside: you follow, quiet, as he grabs a comic, a candy bar, always something small.

The station attendant smiles at you, knows Derek well, jokingly refers to you as his 'shadow.' You find this appropriate, because Derek is a shining thing. His smiles wide and bright in either form, flashing teeth and laughing eyes. He is bright and loud where you are soft and quiet.

Derek is the one to stand beside you when, three years later, you ask for the chance to go to school.

Mother is unsure, frowning, “I don't know if that's wise.”

“It's necessary,” father allows, smelling equally concerned, “but I don't know that you're ready.”

“Derek will be with me,” you say, and maybe it is your certainty, implacable in both tone and scent, that convinces them. Maybe it is your brother, standing beside you, holding your hand, full near to bursting with pride at the trust you are placing in him, all of you. Either way, the result is the same: you are going to school.

It's not what you expected, but then, you didn't really know what to expect. No one suspects you of being anything other than what _they_ are: human. There is a bit of teasing, because you are new and home schooled, and apparently there is a certain stigma associated with it. The boys ignore you, and you ignore them right back. What use have you for them? They are not a part of your world, and you have little to no desire to join theirs. _Weird_ , some of the girls call you, not knowing your sharp ears can pick them out through the cacophony of the cafeteria, _so weird, always with that brother of hers. At least_ he's _normal._

That makes you stop, take stock, re-evaluate. You spend the next few weeks watching Derek, seeing how he interacts with others. He is with the humans as he is at home: bright, sunny, smiling, strong, determined. But where your family sees an adolescent beta, the beginnings of a strong wolf, the humans see a charming boy, a handsome leader.

The boys do not ignore him, the girls do not speak ill of him.

You ponder this, off and alone, running through the woods. You have always known yourself to be different, but for the first time you wonder if that difference is more than skin-deep, more than just your dual-nature, more than just your birth-form. You watch the rest of your family interact with the humans and realize that there are two ways, two natures on display.

Your mother, your brother, uncle Nathan, aunts Clara and Nell, they are the same with the humans as they are at home. Father, uncle Peter and aunt Jo... are not. They draw on a cloak of humanity when they leave the house, because at soul they are as much wolf as you are. Peter and father are clowns at home, happy, smiling, laughing in wolf form and out. Among humans they shut down, quiet and cool, smelling of _checking-ice, bear-close-by, fear-sour, anger_. Aunt Jo smells purely of fear around humans, aunt Jo doesn't leave home often.

Taking all this into account, you decide to make your own mask. You don't fear humans, not the way aunt Jo does, and you don't distrust them, not the way uncle Peter and father do. On the other hand, neither do you sincerely _enjoy_ them, the way the rest of the family seems to. They aren't really real to you, seem half-finished, bereft. It's not the same with the human members of your family, but they're...different, in a way you can't really explain. They're still somehow more real to you than those false-scented, ignorant humans you're schooled with. You know that that's unfair, but they will never see what you see, smell what you smell, know what you know. What could you possibly have in common with them?

Still, you think that Derek's approach to humans is best, so you begin to ape it. You smile, bright and flashy – and you picture _head down, tail up, play with me_ as you do. You laugh, you play, you join the other girls in their games of _hunt the weak, cull the herd_. It's not satisfying in the way that being at home, being with the pack is, but you know you are getting better at humanity.

Derek pulls you aside a short while after you implement your plan.

“What are you doing?” he asks you bluntly, sharp smell of worry surrounding him.

“I am being human,” you tell him. And you are, the only way you know how.

“You smell,” he begins, looking worried, “you look – you look like you're about to _shift_.”

You shrug, “I won't.”

“But...”

“Derek,” you say, and you reach up to cup your hand over the back of his neck, pull him in and breath his scent, the smell of _brother, pack, family, home_ , “I can't be like them, but I can try to be like you...in my own way. Let me do this, it's the only trail I can hunt.”

He nods, at last, troubled but trusting.

Uncle Peter is the only other one who knows what you're doing, he has the sharpest nose in the family.

“It's a dangerous game you're playing,” he tells you, smiling idly. He smells of _sun-in-meadow, lazy-after-kill_ , content and happy. “You are a wolf in human's clothing, aren't you?” he asks, and his tone is a shade admiring, he's considering you in a way he never has before, a way that makes you puff up a little, prideful.

“I am a wolf,” you say, and he ruffles your hair and you know he understands.

The year passes and you move on up to high school with all your 'friends.' It's strange, not being in the same building as Derek, but you manage. It's only another year or so, and even if you can't smell him in all the hallways, at least aunt Clara is close by in the office. She doesn't notice your subterfuge, but she is human, after all. You feel a little guilty, taking advantage of her nature this way, but...

It doesn't stop you.

You start to notice the boys a little more, they start to smell a little better. Less like cubs, more like – more like something, some _one_ , you might like to make smell like you, just a little. Mother and father pull you aside to _talk_ , and it is confusing. Very confusing. You know you're not ready to go off and make your own pack, of course you're not, but you don't entirely get the connection.

They start to look worried when you go to school, now. Smell like it, too. You ignore them, and for their sake, you ignore the boys.

By the time Derek joins you in the high school, your human mask is perfected. You are pretty, popular, the girls are your friends (you've mastered the _prey-fellow_ mentality necessary, the trick is to show no weakness, easy for you, you have none), the boys chase you. It's amusing, really, their pursuit, that they think they could catch you, in _either_ form, it's ridiculous. You've found no one you would hunt with, none you would den down with, though you have been interested a few times. None have been worth baring your fur to.

You assume the same is true for Derek, and you're right.

Until Kate.

Kate is...fascinating. You don't know how Derek met her, but she's – she's the closest to a wolf that you've ever seen a human come. She smells like the hunt, but she looks like a doe: soft and brown and tender. When Derek introduces you to her, bounding up beside you after school one day (to let you know he doesn't need a ride), you are mesmerized.

You spend little time with the woman, and no doubt, she _is_ a woman, save for when you're covering for them with your parents. It's almost impossible to completely hide Kate's scent, but she can be explained away as a mutual friend, and sometimes Derek (or Kate, usually Kate) even invites you along when they 'hang out.' Derek usually smells of frustration, after, but he smelled of frustration long before Kate arrived, so you ignore it.

Sometimes you don't talk at all when she's around, not with words. You use wolf-language, body and scent and motion, and each time you are astounded by the cues that Kate can pick up. By the things she understands, always without asking.

The truth is that you are as enthralled as Derek, because here is someone you could hunt beside.

But Kate is Derek's and Derek is Kate's, you can respect that.

You let her close, though. You don't deter Derek when he decides to tell her, you stand beside him when he asks your parents if he can bring her home, tell her their truths, show her their fur. They are unsure, but you can tell that they're wavering in the face of your combined certainty. Still, they say no.

For the first time in your life, you don't listen. The worse sin? You convince Derek to follow you.

The night you choose to show Kate your fur is cool and sharp, a late-autumn night after a day as blue and clear as October can make it. You are far from town or home, you've picked a field, on a night just after the full moon. You are trembling with excitement, anticipation, the need to hunt and run and maybe... maybe Kate will be beside you. She's Derek's, yes, but if she's pack, then you can still run with her. Still hunt with her. If she's pack, she's yours, even if she's Derek's first.

Derek shifts first, and Kate goes very, very still.

“You're... werewolves?” and her voice isn't weak, isn't fearful and you rejoice.

“Yes.”

“Both of you?” she asks, turning to face you.

You nod.

“Can I see?”

Her gaze is so intent, so steady, you cannot help but want what she wants, and what she wants is to see your other form. You start to strip, never taking your eyes from hers.

“Whoa there! What are you doing?”

“Laura's shift is different from mine,” Derek answers in your stead, having put his human skin back on.

You're busy folding your clothes, as soon as you're done, you shift and suddenly everything is that much _sharper_ and more _vivid_ , you stand still and straight, staring fixedly at Kate, scenting her, listening to her, every sense focused on her and her reaction to this, your truest form. You've bared your fur, for the first time, to a human.

“Magnificent,” Kate says, eyes gleaming.

She smells like a hunt successfully completed.

You raise your head and howl.

The fire is two weeks later, while you're at school.

You feel it start, not the fire, but the dying. You feel the room spin, your vision blur, as your pack disappears from your mind, heart, soul, as they are snuffed out like lights going dim in an ever-increasing blackness. You feel the mantle of _Alpha_ settle over your shoulders, into your skin, this thing you were born to bear, but not this soon. _Never_ this soon.

Your screams sound like howls, but nobody notices under the sheer weight of _tragedy_ that strikes the town.

Eleven people, dead. Your pack, your family. Peter is alive, but barely. You practically live in his hospital room for months, Derek glued to your side. Derek smells like guilt, like regret and despair, and he's not telling you something, but you don't care, because you think you know, because there's only one thing, only one truth that could be so big.

And you won't speak it, either. You mourn, though. For the possibility that you'd clutched tight to your heart.

Three months later, you leave, Derek with you. There were forms to fill, papers to sign, but that's done now. You leave, and bring Derek with you, and you settle somewhere _else_. One month later, you leave there and go a third place. Two months after, a fourth. You don't stay anywhere longer than six months for over three years. Derek gets his GED, pushes you to get yours, too.

You aren't living, merely existing. Your pack is gone. Your trust betrayed. Your fur feels like a lie, now.

You wonder if you truly became the mask you wore for so long, you wonder if that's why she was able to trick you.

You don't blame Derek, though you know he blames himself.

You wonder if you were born with fur because you weren't meant to wear skin. Wondering leads to a year spent in nothing but your fur, Derek close beside you. He stays with you, in the forest, for a while. You stay with him, pretending to be a dog, for longer. Then, one day, you sit up and really _look_ at your brother.

He isn't smiling, isn't sunny anymore. He is dark, like you. Like Peter was, like aunt Jo and father.

He was meant to shine, but he doesn't now. Gleam dulled by ash and scorched by fire.

This is your fault. So you set about fixing him the only way you know how. You press against him in fur or skin, you remind him that you're not dead by _smelling alive_. You go out, you interact, you begin to be Laura Hale again, though you _never_ put your mask on. You become the girl you were around your family again, and gradually, infinitesimally, something in Derek seems to give way and relax.

He doesn't get better immediately, he doesn't laugh or joke as much as he once did, but there's a light in his eyes again. You push him to go out, be with people, _enjoy them_ again. Unspoken is the knowledge that not everyone is like _her_ , a fact you are grateful for, a fact that makes you want to weep.

Derek starts up classes at the local college, he's started to talk about the future, started to _plan_.

And then an envelope appears in your mailbox. An envelope with a picture of a deer with a spiral in its side.

You know who it is, you know what it means.

You go back home anyways.

The end of the story is much like the beginning. You enter this world a wolf, you leave it as one. It's the middle that was the mistake: you were never meant for human skin, human problems. Perhaps you should have been a leader, in a pack of old, but you led your pack to nothing but ruin.

Your story ends in the woods.

A few days later, another story starts.


End file.
